


No diggity

by hazelandglasz



Category: Glee
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Bullying, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Spoilers, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1438786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for Season 5, episode 16 (April 15th 2014)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No diggity

“ _Shorty get down, good Lord,_

 _Baby got’em open all over town …_ ”

Blaine grits his teeth as he refuses to listen to Santana’s voice.

That girl … she has been back, what five minutes, and she is already looking for all the right buttons to get him unhinged.

And it works.

“ _Strictly bitch, you don’t play around,_

_Cover much ground, got game by the **pound** …”_

The way Santana accents the last word is unmissable, as is her quiet giggle after it, humming the rest of the song.

Really?

She’s going there?

"Enough, Santana," he says as calmly as he can, keeping his eyes on his notebook.

Santana snorts, flicking a page of her magazine. “What is it, wrecked ball?” she asks, voice soft and caring. But Blaine knows better.

"I need to focus, that’s all," he replies and Blaine can’t hold back the wince that travels from his face to his shoulders when he hears her standing up and coming closer.

"You can’t focus," she repeats, before making a sneak attack on his stomach, "because of that pudgy stomach hiding your book!"

The chair clams on the floor as it falls down in Blaine’s sudden change of position. Standing up, he gets right in Santana’s face and boy, isn’t it a relief that, for once, he can tower over someone (thank God Santana has taken her shoes off too).

"You stop that right this instant," he growls, pointing a finger at her

"Or what?" Santana challenges, tilting her head up and throwing her hair back. "What are you going to do to me, gag me with your manboobs?"

"I don’t have ma- Not the point," Blaine stops himself short of an additional humiliation. "Just because you heard me cracking my pants doesn’t give you liberties to humilate and bully me. You of all people should know that-"

"What do you mean, ‘me of all people’?" Santana cuts him, looking affronted.

Blaine looks at her for a little while before replying. “Being conscious about your body and all,” he simply says and Santana opens her mouth to reply when they’re interrupted.

"What is going on here?"

Santana looks over Blaine’s shoulder, and Blaine looks down at his shoes.

Kurt is standing in the kitchen, a bag from the grocery store in his hand, and he’s looking at them with something akin to fond annoyance in his eyes.

"Nothing," Santana replies, frowning at Blaine like he’s the one who got them in trouble with Kurt, before sliding away. "I have somewhere else to go - somewhere without self-loathing," she adds just before rushing out, leaving Blaine to take care of the mess she has made.

Oh, who is he kidding? He’s the one who got himself in this mes to begin with, stopping to exercise and eating without counting his calories and it was only a matter of time before the Gelman’s genes caught up with him anyway, he’s not even going to be a good trophy husband nor a good taking-care-of-everything husband because he’s useless and …

"Deep breath honey, stay with me."

Oh. Blaine is panicking and Kurt has to calm him down, awesome, one more thing to add to his list of uselessness.

"What is this all about?" Kurt asks softly, brushing a stray curl (traitor) from Blaine’s forehead and keeping an hand on Blaine’s forearm.

Blaine lets out a sigh and keeps his eyes away from Kurt.

Perfect, handsome, talented, loving Kurt who may keep his distance when he’s hurting but would never let Blaine suffer through whatever pain on his own.

He doesn’t deserve him, and he says so aloud.

Kurt stops his comforting circles and reaches for Blaine’s chin.

Dear god soon he’ll have more than one to reach for …

"Blaine," Kurt says softly, "is this about the pair of mustard pants I found in the trash with a tear in the back?"

Jesus Christ, you can’t even trust the trash to keep your secrets !

Blaine nods, swallowing back a whine.

"Silly, you do realize that you wear those pants far too often and they just wore out?" Kurt says, keeping Blaine’s face in his firm hand.

"I got fat, Kurt," Blaine retorts, jerking his head away from Kurt’s touch. "I got fat, and I’m average at best at school and I can’t keep up with you and your Pokemon ways -"

"My What?!"

"You know exactly what I’m talking about," Blaine says, pointing an accusing finger in Kurt’s direction, and wouldn’t Cooper be proud of him, "you’re constantly evolving into someone who is stronger, better …"

"You forgot harder and faster," Kurt says, taking a step to crowd Blaine against the kitchen counter with a smirk, "but I can remind you of that," he adds in a purr, his hands finding Blaine’s hips.

Blaine almost melts into his touch - he wouldn’t mind a little bit of Kurt’s “harder and faster” - but no, he can’t —

"I can’t," he babbles, his hands on Kurt’s chest. "I know that you don’t want me the way you used to."

"Excuse me?" Kurt asks, shocked. "I want you, of course I do!"

"With my fat ass and my fat belly ?" Blaine shouts, "I don’t think so!"

Kurt doesn’t reply, but his eyes fill up with tears. “You think I would be so shallow?” he murmurs. “That if you did gain weight, which you didn’t, by the way, I wouldn’t want - no, that I wouldn’t love you anymore?”

It feels like a bucket of icy water on Blaine’s head. “It’s not what I meant,” Blaine starts, reaching for Kurt’s hand.

"It’s what you implied," Kurt replies softly, brushing away a stray tear.

"I’m sorry," Blaine whispers, "I’m really useless."

"No, you’re not," Kurt cuts him before Blaine can spiral into another self-depreciating whirlwind. "Your favorite pants, that you’ve been wearing basically twice a week, every week for the past two years gave up, so what? Your grades are not bad —"

"They’re not _good_ either,” Blaine mumbles and Kurt huffs.

"They’re not bad," he repeats, "and I wouldn’t be able to do half as good without you by my side."

Blaine snorts at that. “You managed perfectly last year,” he recalls, even though he wishes he could do without the memory of, oh yeah, another failure on his part.

"Not perfectly," Kurt replies, his thumb brushing Blaine’s cheek, "and not as good as I am doing now. Do you really think I would work so hard without you following my every move with those eyes of yours?" he asks with a soft smile, beofre leaning in to kiss Blaine’s other cheek.

"Oh?" Blaine replies intelligently, but there is something in the way Kurt is kissing him - oh - and cupping his face just this way and - oh.

"And even in the improbable event of you turning fat and jiggly," Kurt continues, cutting himself every word or so to press another kiss to Blaine’s face and jaw and neck, "I would still fuck you every way to Sunday."

"That was blunt," Blaine deadpans, but his hands are on Kurt’s waist. "But message - message received."

"Now, do you want me to fix your pants?" Kurt asks, straightening up to face Blaine once more.

"I’d rather have you in them," Blaine says in a rush and Kurt beams at him.

"Now you’re talking," Kurt says, voice turning breathy as it often does when he has a rush of want that he can’t control going through him. "Let me just put everything where it’s supposed to be," he adds, haphazardly throwing what is fresh in the fridge.

Blaine smiles at him, walking backwards as he unbuttons his cardigan. “ _I like the way you work it …_ ”, he starts singing, opening his arms to welcome Kurt’s enthusiastic kiss.

“ _Got to bag it up_ ”, Kurt sings back at him as he pulls his shirt off, his voice choking on a song as Blaine pulls a condom from Kurt’s backpocket.

Perfect.


End file.
